


the potential of you and me.

by redhoods



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redhoods/pseuds/redhoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh my god! You bit me! Didn't you?! You bit me! So I'm part of your pack and that's why you can calm me and shit!" And Stiles is definitely on the verge of another panic attack until Derek's hand is curved around his neck, just resting there. Stiles takes a few deep breaths to pull himself together. "Sorry, sorry, continue."</p>
            </blockquote>





	the potential of you and me.

Stiles isn't exactly sure where he is, except for the fact that he knows he's in the woods, but he's been too busy running to have kept track of how far he's gone or where he's veered off the path. He doesn't know who he's running from, but he hasn't looked back, because he's seen the horror movies. You look back, you fall, you get whacked, so no, he's not going to be the token idiot from a horror film. Just because his life is turning into a horror movie, it doesn't mean he has to accept it, thank you.

Of course, the thought goes through his head and he ends up tripping anyways and ow, no, your arm isn't supposed to bend that way. He manages to flip himself over, carefully, cradling his left his arm to his chest, and that's when two bodies go flying just over him and crash into a tree not five feet from him. There's growling and snarling and Stiles is pretty sure it's Derek and Scott. He's not sure which one was chasing him and which one just saved him, but at this point, he's more focused on the throbbing in his arm and, oh, when did he slice his chest open?

Shaking his head at himself, Stiles carefully manages to slide himself backwards away from the two werewolves, keeping one arm pressed to his torso and using his other hand to pull himself on his ground. It hurts like hell, rocks digging into his hand, every move pulling the wound on his chest and jostling his arm. He stops when his back hits a tree and slumps against it, carefully moving his injured arm and using his uninjured one to tug on his shirt some to look at his wound, wincing and hissing when the shirt sticks before he manages to get it loose. He tears it the best he can to get the frayed edges away from the wound and press the fabric itself to the wound.

It's then that everything starts fading in and out. And he can hear someone saying his name, but he can't get anything into focus and he completely loses consciousness when he's lifted off the ground.

\--

Stiles comes to in stages, first he feels the pain, then the rest of him comes to, and all his senses slowly follow after that. Like the fact that it's dark wherever he is, there's something scorching hot pressed against his side, it smells like smoke and soot, and that he's been bandaged up. A groan escapes him unbidden and whatever's next to him that's sososo hot shifts. He blinks a few more times and things come more into focus. "Derek?"

"You're awake," Derek seems to realize he's stating the obvious, "Are you okay?"

Stiles response is another groan as he shifts himself to try and sit up. "No," he mutters and realizes his shirt is completely gone, which shouldn't be as much of a surprise as it is because the last he remembers he had ripped his own shirt for a band aid. "Where?"

And Derek's arm is around his shoulders, holding him up, and, oh, that's what was so hot against his skin. Derek's body is producing an insane amount of heat and Stiles wonders how the older male hasn't spontaneously combusted or something. "My house," Derek's voice is soft and gentle and Stiles wonders what alternate universe he woke up in.

"What happened?" Stiles is leaning into Derek's warmth and he's not sure why other than the fact that he's light headed and the warmth feels really good and Derek smells really good and he derails that line of thought before it can get him into trouble.

Derek starts explaining but Stiles really can't focus, because Derek's hand is ghosting over his skin, not really touching but Stiles can tell it's there and, really, he doesn't know what Derek is saying to him other than he hears Scott's name a few times and then, "Stiles, Stiles, are you with me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, totally here and listening, definitely not spaced out at all," and he tosses in a ridiculous grin, or what he hopes is a grin, just to keep the rouse going.

Derek chuckles, honest to god chuckling that rumbles Derek's chest and Stiles can actually feel it where his good arm is pressed against Derek's chest. "You're a horrible liar," he states softly and a hand settles on the back of Stiles's neck, derailing his thoughts with Derek's thumb rubbing against the skin there. "Your arm isn't broken. Your chest is starting to heal with a little help."

"A little help?" Stiles is sort of nervous to what Derek's definitely of 'a little help' is but he can't really work himself up with Derek's thumb rubbing against his neck and maybe that's the whole reason it is. Derek's clearly a sneakier bastard than Stiles originally gave him credit for.

Derek hums softly, "I'll explain once you're more lucid. Plus, we should get you home," he explains and then he's helping Stiles up off the mattress their on before standing himself.

"I can't go home without a shirt on," Stiles mumbles then, bringing his good hand up to scrub it over his head as he watches Derek. His eyebrows tug together in confusion, watching the older male shrug his leather jacket off.

And Derek's holding out his jacket and, oh. Stiles slides his good arm into the jacket and carefully maneuvers his bad arm, letting Derek slide the sleeve onto that arm. The jacket is almost comically too big for him, but it fits and it'll do to get him in the house and past his dad, so he just inclines his head towards Derek, watching the older male zip the jacket up.

\--

Stiles decides that Derek is either trying to drive him crazy or trying to keep him from panicking or both. Stiles always decides that he's succeeding, no excelling, at both. The radio isn't on, the air conditioner is on high, and, most importantly, Derek's hand is settled over the back of his neck, rubbing in circles against it and Stiles is trying not to lean into the touch while also trying not to fall asleep because of the calming touch.

Derek stops a ways back from the house and Stiles isn't sure what to say so he ends up just opening and closing his mouth a few times and then suddenly Derek's lips are pressed to his. Stiles's brain is definitely short circuiting because of this night, but that's okay because Derek's lips are strangely soft and he's ridiculously good at this kissing business.

"Go home, Stiles," Derek's voice is soft, smooth, and Stiles wants more of it but he's not even sure what it is much less how to ask for it so he just nods, says 'okay' about a dozen times, and then slides out of the car, pushing the door shut behind him.

He burrows down in the coat as he walks up to the house, taking in Derek's scent as he does so.

\--

Stiles pays no mind to much of anything as he gets dressed the next morning, just goes through the motions, only slightly inhibited by his arm and chest. He doesn't realize until he's in his jeep and almost to the school that he pulled on Derek's jacket instead of one of his own, but decides to just roll with it. It's not to far fetched to think he might own a leather jacket.

Of course, Scott doesn't know this because the first thing he blurts to Stiles is 'Why are you wearing Derek's jacket?' when it should totally be 'I'm so sorry for trying to kill you last night...again'.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Scott looks sheepish and Stiles realizes he might have said that out loud and, man, does he really need to work on the filter from his brain to his mouth.

"Well, Derek saved my life and patched me up and let me borrow his jacket because of a certain person, whose name I won't mention, my shirt ended up almost in shreds," Stiles rambles on until he realizes that Scott hasn't even been listening because apparently Allison entered the vicinity during his tirade and, really, dude, you'd think he'd at least make an attempt to listen to his best friend who he tried to kill.

\--

Stiles, by some not-so-miraculous feat, manages to ignore Scott for then entire day, manages to weasel his way out of lacrosse practice, and also manages not to call attention to the fact that he's favoring his left arm. Of course, that would be the day that everyone on the lacrosse team decides that they're going to try and pummel him into the ground with slaps to the back and bumping their fists into his chest, but he manages not to cry, so he counts it as a win.

He's walking to his jeep, not really paying much attention to what's happening around him until he stops at his jeep and goes to jam his key in the door when he notices that Derek's car is on the other side of his jeep and said male is leaning against said car. "Derek."

"How're you feeling?" Derek looks like he's stuck between being amused and some other emotion that Stiles really can't place, but Derek almost looks happy and Stiles is beginning to wonder how hard he bumped his head last night.

Stiles manages an awkward shrug, "Oh, you know, feeling great and all, just have a giant gash on my chest and a more than likely fractured arm. And, also, my best friend is too hung up on a stupid girl to realize that - " and Stiles stops because Derek's hand has settled on the back of his neck and, oh, that's really distracting.

Derek seems even more amused to the point where he's almost smiling and Stiles would really like to wake up now, thanks. "Let's go. I want to look at the wound on your chest," and Stiles is nodding before he even realizes what's going on.

\--

Stiles is sitting on his desk, letting Derek poke and prod at his chest and silently marveling over how gentle Derek is being about this whole ordeal. It's kind of weird, in that mind blowing way, where things seems so surreal that you expect to wake up at any second and the longer it goes, the less real it seems.

"Stiles!"

"Huh? What?" Stiles blinks at Derek a few times and Derek looks vaguely annoyed, so Stiles wonders just how long the werewolf has been trying to get his attention.

"Bandages?" He throws an arm in the direction of the door as a response before shaking his head and sliding off the desk, which puts him right in Derek's personal space but he doesn't dwell on it long before sliding passed the older male and crossing the hall into the bathroom. 

Bandages retrieved from under the counter, he turns to take them back to the room only to run into Derek's very solid chest. "Jesus Christ, make some noise, man! Wear a collar with a bell! Something! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Derek just takes the bandages and turns away, walking back to the room and Stiles just shakes his head before following after him like a puppy. Ha. A puppy. Derek's looking at him weird now and Stiles is pretty sure he laughed out loud. He really needs to work on that. He just grins at Derek and lifts his hands up in a 'what' motion.

"On the desk."

"Kinky," Stiles blurts before he can stop himself, but to his own credit, he doesn't blush, just lifts himself to sit on the desk and leans back on his good arm so Derek can actually get to his chest. Stiles watches Derek as he works, admiring how focused and determined the older male is when it comes to his task. He doesn't even realize he's still staring until Derek clears his throat. "All done."

"Awesome, thanks," Stiles nods a few times and reaches for his shirt, tugging it carefully over his head and goes easy to get it over his bad arm before sliding his good arm into the sleeve with a triumphant sound. "So much better than this morning."

He slides off the desk and picks Derek's jacket up off the back of his chair, holding it out to the older male. "Thanks for letting me use this last night," he states softly.

Stiles tries not to let his shock show when the jacket is pushed back to his chest. "Hang on to it," Derek's words are soft and his gaze is alarmingly serious and Stiles thinks that Derek is looking for something, but he isn't sure what.

The silence stretches out for a few more awkward minutes until Stiles clears his throat, nods, and places the jacket back over his desk chair before sliding his good hand over the back of his head. "So, you said there was something you needed to explain to me, when I was more lucid, and I'm pretty sure this is the most lucid you're ever going to -"

And, once again, Stiles is interrupted by Derek's lips on his and really, he's not complaining because Derek is really good at this and he's pretty sure that no one would complain, even Allison's crazy aunt. He lets out a long breath when Derek pulls away. "So...what was that for?"

"Have you noticed that anytime I touch you -"

"Things get really calm?" Stiles shrugs a little, lifting an eyebrow as he waits for Derek to continue.

The little annoyed look Derek shoots him doesn't faze Stiles in the slightest, he's used to those sorts of looks by now. "Well, last night, you were in real bad shape -" Stiles can't stop his snort here - "As in, you were bleeding and it wasn't stopping, so I had to do something."

"Oh my god! You bit me! Didn't you?! You bit me! So I'm part of your pack and that's why you can calm me and shit!" And Stiles is definitely on the verge of another panic attack until Derek's hand is curved around his neck, just resting there. Stiles takes a few deep breaths to pull himself together. "Sorry, sorry, continue."

"I didn't bite you. I just...cleaned your wound," Derek states slowly, like he's trying to make sense of the situation of himself.

Stiles's eyebrows reach his hair line, he's sure of it, before he can get any words out. "What does cleaning my wounds have to do with anything?" His voice is getting kind of hysterical, but he still feels relatively calm.

Derek shakes his head and then he's leading Stiles to the bed, gently pushing the younger male to sit down before sitting next to him so all of their sides are touching, shoulder to feet. "How to wolves clean wounds, Stiles?"

"Well, I mean, they lick them don't - oh, that's just gross, Derek," Stiles's brain seems to be finally getting into the game at this point. "But that still - okay, I'll let you finish."

Stiles wants to scowl at the amused look Derek shoots him but the look slips away almost as quick as it was there. "Wolves mate, they mate for life. Born werewolves have that same drive in them, that same intuition, that same instinct."

Before he can help himself, Stiles is standing and pacing his room. "You're telling me that you...licking my wounds caused me to become your what? Your mate?" At the look on Derek's face, a little amusement but a lot resignation, Stiles makes this sound that he's not really sure what it was but he thinks it's frustration and hysteria mixed.

"Breath, Stiles," And then Derek is right in front of him, one hand curved around his neck again and the other resting on his hip and Stiles can't really take it anymore, just lets his head drop forwards and rest against Derek's chest as he takes a few deep breaths.

"So what does that mean?"

Stiles feels Derek's arms wrap around him and everything feels like it's clicking into place even though he knows it really isn't. "It means you're my mate. That I can feel what you're feeling, that you're mine to protect, that you're -"

"Yours. Right? That's what that means," Stiles states and he tries not to sound a resigned as he feels but he knows he does a miserable job of it. He suppose it could be worse. He could be dead or forever attached to someone like...Jackson or, worse, the Alpha. That's all he has to do, keep looking at the up side of these things.

"That's what that means," and Stiles sort of hates that Derek sounds resigned too, because that means Derek is stuck with him for the rest of his life and Stiles knows he's not an easy person to be around.

Stiles sighs softly and pulls his head from Derek's chest to look up at the other male. "How do you think Scott will react?" Derek's face flashes with a slight amount of pain and Stiles wonders if Derek's mind is right where his is. Really, Stiles is thinking how awkward it will be at first and then how he knows, just knows, that Scott is going to try and pin this on Derek when it's really Scott's fault. Stiles blinks a few times at the surge of protectiveness that he feels towards Derek.

"Things are about to get even more different than they already were, aren't they?"

"Yes."

"Well, don't try to sugarcoat or anything, just tell me the cold hard facts."

"Stiles?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Will do."


End file.
